


The Origin Of The Shotgun

by gala_apples



Series: An Alphabet of Teen Wolf Crossovers [10]
Category: Kings of Cool, Savages Series - Don Winslow, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Crossover, Drugs, Military Backstory, Multi, POV Outsider, Past Child Abuse, Polyamory, the deadpool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 17:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2356760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When fellow serviceman and one time fuckbuddy Jordan Parrish calls Chon to ask if the eruption in violence in Beacon Hills is because Chon's expanding his drug dealing territory, Chon's answer is a flat out no. Ben's far too ethical to let that happen. But Chon goes down to Beacon Hills anyway. If Jordan needs help, Chon will help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Origin Of The Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> This story is written in the style of the novel. Sections 4, 6, 7, 10, 14 are taken from Kings of Cool.
> 
> If you're from the Teen Wolf side, you should be able to read this without much Savages knowledge. Just know that Chon and Ben are ethical drug dealers who are in a V poly relationship with O. Chon's kind of an ass, and the enforcer. Ben was raised by hippies, he doesn't believe in enforcement. O's family is mostly Ben and Chon, her mother is the kind of person to buy her daughter breast implants for her sixteenth birthday and get remarried seven times. O calls her PAQU, or Passive Aggressive Queen of the Universe.

1.  
Fuck your brother.

2.  
No, really. Go ahead. More people do it than you think.

Half the Appalachian people do it. The choices of entertainment are slim, and no one will notice the stain of wiping your spent dick on his wife beater against all the sweat and chaw spittle.

Royalty. They’ve been doing it for generations, where do you think haemophilia came from?

Soldiers. Between another guy’s hand while you both firmly have your eyes shut, or pissing off the entire village, it’s not much of a close call. Men want to empty their balls, not get them blown off by a revenge IED.

3.  
It’s not the first time Chon’s gotten a blowjob in a Humvee. Back home it’s everything bigger than everything else -everyONE else’s-

(boobs, swimming pools, credit card statements)

        OC’s tenth commandment: thou shalt not covet thy neighbour, for thou shall be better than them in every way.

so why shouldn’t a five foot three woman in five hundred dollar heels drive a car like a tank? Why shouldn’t Chon fuck a Orange County Trophy Wife in her husband’s physical manifestation of over-compensation? He’s only helping them move through the transitory period between Trophy Wife and divorcee quicker. More efficiently. Rich blond middle aged women like efficiency, or at least they do when the Shopping Network suggests a faster-better-more expensive blender.

Chon was surprised when Jordan suggested it. The enveloping wet heat 

the slide and scrape of tongue and tastebuds

the gag and relax as he hits the back of Jordan’s throat

it’s all a little harder to pass off as not gay. What are you supposed to do, call it a bro-job? 

At least, it’s gay for the blower, and a lack of reciprocity gets around like a bad fart. No one wants a grudge on the battlefield. Ten minutes ago Chon was a cocksucker, now Jordan’s the one with his lips stretched wide. Wasn’t the first time, won’t be the last.

4.  
The night is eerie green.

Through Chon’s night goggles.

Monster movie green.

He rolls out of the APC (Amoured Personnel Carrier)

behind his team and rushes towards the compound.

5.  
Chon’s fingers tighten in Jordan’s hair and he empty himself in the specialist’s mouth. Jordan’s lips hold tight as he 

swallows 

swallows 

swallows like it’s mother’s milk or a gamer’s Mountain Dew. 

Not a drop spills. Jordan doesn’t even have to wipe his mouth for stray come. Good thing. Damp facecloths and snuggles aren’t part of the routine in a war zone.

_What?_

He told you it wouldn’t be the last time.

6.  
Back down the stairs now.

Mission accomplished.

Everyone gets to go home, drink a beer, watch a DVD.

Women are already mourning, keening, ululating, but Chon no longer hears that.

White noise.

He’s almost down the stairs when he see the kid he didn’t -refused to- shoot.

Chon sees the kid’s innocent black eyes and says 

“oh fuck”

as the kid reaches inside the _waskath_ and detonates the bomb strapped to his body.

The green world goes red.

7.  
Wounded.

Chon hates the word.

Wounded. [ **woon** -did] Simple past tense and past participle of “wound”.  
1\. Suffering from a wound, especially one acquired in battle.  
2\. Suffering from an emotional injury.

I am wounded (2) that I am wounded (1), Chon thinks.

He is of course aware that the word comes from the Old English ‘wund’, from the Saxon ‘wunda’, the Norse ‘und’.

The Norse.

The Vikings, who believed if you died with a sword in your hand you went straight to Valhalla to join your fallen brothers in perpetual feasting, drinking, and fucking.

(Which is clearly why they slaughtered the Christians so easily. Come on- grubbing, guzzling and boinking vs playing the harp?)

But if you didn’t die with your sword in your hand you were basically fucked.

So Chon is a rehab _animal_.

The rehab techs have to force him to slow down, back off, but it’s a challenge because Chon is determined to not be one of the wounded. He has a medical board coming up.

He’s going out with his sword in his hand.

Speaking of which, he got a card from O.

Her (sort of) wearing (parts of) a Candy Striper uniform.

Sword, meet hand.

8.  
Honourable discharge. His body is too fucked up to continue killing people for Bush’s puppet-masters. Splendid. Something more important is happening at home anyway.

9.  
Someone’s after their business.

More importantly, someone’s after Ben. 

Ben wants to deal with it ‘rationally’. Has _tried_ to deal with it rationally, while Chon was fighting in Afghanistan and determinedly becoming unwounded in Switzerland.

What Ben doesn’t seem to realise is that when you act rational around savages, they

savage you.

So while Ben tries to get out of this calmly and cooly and smartly, Chon will follow behind him. Not in the shadows, but from the perfect vantage of a sniper. Because he will take out the world between the eyes, an endless eternity of smooth cylinder bullets, before he lets anyone hurt Ben.

10.  
When Brian comes to, he’s duct taped to a chair. Chon sits across from him.

“What did I tell you?” Chon says. “What did I tell you I’d do if you laid another hand on one of our people?”

Brian remembers the answer. “Don’t. Please.”

“Say it- what did I tell you?”

“That you’d kill me.”

“Did you think that I was kidding?”

“No.”

“Do you think I’m kidding now?”

“No. Please. Jesus.”

“I’m going to give you one motherfucking chance,” Chon says. “One. To tell me the truth. if you lie, I’ll know it and I’ll kill you. Tell me you understand, Brian.”

“I understand.” His legs are shaking.

“Who pulled the trigger on Scott Munson and that girl?”

“Duane.”

“Duane Crowe?”

Brian nods.

“What did you tell the cops?”

“Nothing.”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Chon says. “You’re going to call Crowe, tell him you want to meet.”

“He won’t come.”

“Tell him he comes or you tell the Feds everything,” Chon says. “What’s his number?”

Brian tells him.

Chon takes Brian’s phone, punches in Crowe’s number, and holds it up to Brian’s mouth.

11.  
Crowe kills Brian before he can say a word.

Chon would like to return the favour. This fucker killed one of their dealers, and has forced Ben into making deals with dirty cops when the poor innocent kid wanted to be better than that. But Chon can’t afford murder. Crowe has to talk.

So they fight. His scar tissue is killing him, he’s weak and rusty and the Vikings would laugh, and he goes deaf in one ear when Crowe grazes his temple trying to shoot him in the head, but he

kneels on the man’s arms and jams his thumbs into Crowe’s eyes and

Crowe screams uncle.

And then he screams father.

John McAlister. That’s who’s running the show. That’s who’s trying to bring Ben down.

Chon shoots Crowe, aims Crowe’s gun at Brian’s, Brian’s at Crowe’s. It’s not what Ben would have wanted, but he’s got bigger problems now. He can apologise to Ben for tactics later. Now he has to figure out how to swallow his soul. 

12.  
When Chon was three, his father lifted him to stand on the fireplace mantel. He let Chon laugh with delight, told him trust me, I’ll catch you.

Long story short, Chon smashed face first into the floor.

Lesson about trust learned.

Chon would never ask for himself. Would rather die a thousand times, possibly in a circle of life fitting way, like his father caving in his skull with a brick.

For Ben, Chon will ask.

For mercy. 

And if he’s lucky, Ben remaining alive will make Chon feel a little less dead inside for asking that man for a favour.

13.  
John isn’t much inclined to mercy.

14.  
They get in the backseat with one of the gunmen. 

He looks to Chon like a refrigerator. 

Or a cop.

And he says to Chon “I don’t care who’s fucking kid you are. You try anything I’ll put two in your head.”

“Easy Boland,” John says.

“Just so he knows,” Boland says.

“Where are we going?” Chon asks. “A ball game? Chuck E. Cheese?”

“Mexico,” John answers.

Mexico, Chon thinks.

Because you can only dump so many bodies in South Orange County before the cops get really fed up and come after you.

The OC is very strict on littering.

Mexico?

Not so much.

15.  
Doc says Chon can walk away, if he promises to stay gone, because he loves John like a brother.

Doc says who when Chon asks about Ben.

John blows Doc’s brains out.

Never.  
Trust.  
Anyone.

16.  
The lights shut off.

A bomb goes off in the doorway.

A Mexican gang starts to invade Doc’s mansion.

Chon can barely see, doesn’t know the story of who pissed whom off and how, and he doesn’t have a weapon.

He focuses his eyes fifteen degrees to the left to cut off the cones that try to distinguish colours. It’s not much, but it lets him see a little better. Problem one solved.

He wrestles Boland to the floor and chokes the man to death to get a Glock. Problem three solved.

The inner workings of cartels? Not his problem.

Squinting against the darkness, Chon finds his father. John’s curled into a protective ball but shooting his pistol at random. Still alive, thank fuck. Chon tries to evade the bullets as he crawls over to the man, his father’s and the cartel’s alike.

Operation Relocation a success, Chon wrenches the gun from his father’s hand. He jams the barrel into the old man’s temple, thus making it pretty fucking clear John had best call off the hit.

17.  
Now that Ben won’t die, it’s time to deal with some secondary concerns. 

Mainly, time to make sure _he_ doesn’t die.

He crawls through the first floor, John choosing to follow in his wake. They make it to the courtyard

\--not by some miracle, Chon believes in weed and Ben and O and violence, not God

and the next step is getting to the car. There’s not much time left. The shooting is getting methodical, which means one side has won over the other -Chon would put his money on the offensive cartel, not the defensive, if he cared enough to bet- and all that’s left is clean up. But seconds counting down or not, Chon’s going to try. Surely the Vikings had a clause about dying on your belly being okay if you still have a weapon in hand?

18.  
Fucking Dennis Cain DEA picks them up in a goddamn helicopter.

19.  
The business grows, more than enough to cover Dennis’ monthly bribe along with all their dealers’ salaries and health benefits.

20.  
Ben decides the only thing that’ll soothe his leftist soul about partially causing Scott and Traci’s deaths is volunteering overseas, their weed money bankrolling clean water and goats and literacy.

21.  
O deals with PAQU and the loss of the potential of a decent bio-dad by smoking their best product and shopping and having great sex.

22.  
Chon finds a private security group more than willing to hire an twenty-something ex-SEAL with only a little shrapnel scarring, and goes for his fourth tour in Stanland.

23.  
In short, time passes.

24.  
Ben is on the other couch, grinding some weed. O is ripped and flushed and wet like a hothouse flower

a grow house flower

and visibly torn between riding Ben like a horse and snuggling in like a blonde tattooed blanket. She’s progressed as far as laying on his legs, face on his thigh, exhaling hot little breaths on his zipper. Chon hopes for his sake Ben went commando this morning. Better experience that way.

His cell rings and he stretches to get it rather than stand up. He doesn’t have to stand up. Range of motion- one of ten million things pussy pacifists take for granted.

“Chon.”

“Hello. This is Jordan Parrish, we served together?”

No, they didn’t. Parrish dismantled bombs, Chon led middle of the night charges to wipe out whole buildings of people. But served together, serviced each other, what’s the difference when you’re calling in a favour?

“Yes, I remember.”

O’s got Ben’s zipper open. She’s blowing him. Now this is irony.

“I need you to be honest. I know your home base career. I don’t disapprove, and why would you care if I did? What I need to know is how far your ring goes. Do you have any dealers in the Beacon Hills?”

25.  
Chon isn’t the type of man to explain himself. 

Etymology, yes. To anyone who will listen. Especially to O, who suffers from PAQU treating school like a babysitter, not a place to educate her child.

His motivations? Either know him well enough to guess or shut up.

Then again, Ben and O aren’t much for letting things go.

Chon is completely unsurprised when he sees Ben’s wimpy eco-friendly hybrid following him, O putting on another coat of lip gloss with the help of the rear view mirror.

26.  
He pulls over in a Perkins parking lot.

“I’m not deploying, you don’t have to see me off.”

“You took weapons,” Ben protests.

“Is it a gang? I thought that’s what Dennis was for,” O questions.

“An old navy buddy-”

_fuckbuddy_

but they don’t need to know that, Chon’s supposed to be straight enough that he and Ben can share O without it being weird

“-thought I brought drug problems up the coast. In a few weeks his town’s seen six different assassins, and there’s a man back from France who was found several months ago with Yakuza money.”

“Our network doesn’t extend through all of California.” Ben’s not the type to say not my problem. Every starving wastrel on every continent is his problem, hence the  
Ben Foundation.  
Hydro Institute.  
Dope Delivers.  
Weed Relief.  
Green Is Green.  
Whatever. But Ben looks close now.

“Jordan’s a brother.”

Before Ben can say something to make this more difficult -Ben trusts too many people to truly understand the comradery of war- O calls shotgun of whoever lets her pick the radio station. The lady has spoken.

27.  
“Hotel in O’s name?” Ben asks.

Chon nods. It’s probably for the best. Chon isn’t sure of the legality of what he might have to do here. He’s a known mercenary. Ben has an arrest record. O is just an aimless suburban Trophy Wife to be, on paper.

They only get one room. They could get two for appearances’ sake, but the second wouldn’t be used at all. Chon’s not comfortable leaving Ben in a different room, and O where ever she feels like sleeping, not when the enemy is still unknown. And since O takes perverse pleasure in shocking and pissing off normal people, one room it is.

28.  
The police station is half full, at best. 

Chon’s done his research. He knows the only buildings attacked more frequently than the station are the public high school and the hospital. Between the teenage serial killer and the bomb it’s not a shock that the deputies haven’t been fully restocked.

Jordan -Deputy Parrish, now- is one of two officers at his desk. Chon bypasses the visitor’s log at the front desk and goes directly to him. When Chon stops Ben and O are flanking him. He’s shielding them. Semantics.

Jordan shakes his head.

“I was wrong. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Just because it’s not my employees doesn’t mean it’s not someone else’s. I can stop it.”

Jordan scratches his fingers through his hair. “It’s all insane. Get out before you get caught in it. If it was the other thing I’d take the help, and be thankful, but it’s not and you don’t deserve to be mired in it.”

Chon just shakes his head. There’s no way they’ll be leaving. O lives for situations that stir her from Orange County sedation; Jordan’s done nothing by saying that but capture her attention. Chon doesn’t take requested favours lightly, and chaos isn’t even close to enough to get him to turn back. And Ben’s already proven once today that he doesn’t let people fight their own battles.

“We can’t talk about this here,” Jordan says lowly.

“We have a hotel room?” Ben offers.

“No, just...” Jordan flicks the button to turn his monitor off, then leads the way to the Sheriff’s office.

29.  
It is:

Insane. [in-seyn] Adjective. Of, pertaining to, or characteristic of a person who is mentally deranged.

Ludicrous. [loo-di-kr _uh_ -s] Adjective. Causing laughter because of absurdity; provoking or deserving derision.

Imaginary. [ih- **maj** - _uh_ -ner-ee] Adjective. Existing only in the imagination or fancy.

30.  
Chon would suspect a post-discharge mental breakdown. PTSD with psychotic features isn’t unheard of. Except Jordan’s been out a while, and he chose not to reenlist so he can’t be that distressed about losing his stability. 

The issue in Beacon Hills is obviously not a supernatural deadpool. Jordan’s wrong, in both senses of the word. That doesn’t mean Chon is walking away. There’s still a stack of dead bodies in the hospital morgue. Since it’s not demons and spirits, and O’s brief scouting for local hydro shows it’s nothing worth bickering over, never mind murdering over, a reason needs to be found by someone a little more competent than a green junior Deputy. Or the FBI, apparently.

Even if Chon wasn’t already invested in clearing up this problem, he’d have to stay. There’s a strong possibility someone is feeding Jordan’s delusions. He made a joke about calling a master to his novice, and that individual is on their way. If Chon has to crack a skull of some conman to get them to back off, he will. Won’t be the messiest thing he’s ever done.

31.  
“You’re the expert?” O blurts out.

Chon exchanges looks with Ben. A kid blew him up and ended his first career. One of Ben’s charities is for mothers under sixteen. They know better than to think some kid doesn’t know his shit. Even if his shit is selling myths and lies to vulnerable people.

“If this was a movie I’d prove my ‘mad hacker skills’” the boy waves his hands around, “by looking at my phone and telling you the last fifty things you bought with your credit card, but maybe Parrish wasn’t aware, but my line of expertise is _need to know_.”

“You told your dad.” Jordan replies.

“Yeah, that wasn’t exactly over bedtime cookies! I told him pretty much immediately before he got kidnapped by the Darach so she could sacrifice him to the Nemeton to get enough power to kill the whole Alpha pack!”

“Stiles, Chon is need to know.”

Chon knows the boy’s protest will be exhausted before he says a thing. Kid’s got the look of a wearied army general. Must be hard, keeping a mythical cult making enough sense to get authorities to buy into it.

“Why? Parrish, don’t we have enough shit going on? You said it was important. I left my dad to come here. I thought it was going to be deadpool related, not you bragging about your abilities to your buds. Gimme a reason why I should tell him jack instead of just going back to the hospital.”

Jordan crosses his arms. “Because he’s an ex-government assassin who won’t care that your best friend is worth twenty five million.”

Stiles is momentarily stunned into silence. It’s only a few blinks before he’s talking again though. “An assassin on our side? A assassin that will help kill the assassins? ‘Bout time. Scott’s way too pacifist about this whole thing.”

Another look at Ben. Chon knows the feeling. Not that there should be anything to be feeling. Chon reminds himself that Stiles isn’t someone to sympathise with, he’s a tiny flailing grifter out to fuck with as many people as he can.

Thankfully Ben’s also talking himself out of buying into the charisma. Chon blames it on both his parents being psychologists. Poor guy never had a chance, he was always going to be far Left and verbally equipped.

“Your best friend is worth twenty five million? I thought the cult leader was supposed to be the most impressive one, not the bestie.”

“A. Scott’s awesome, don’t even front. Of course he’s worth the most, he’s fucking great. B. It’s not a cult, it’s real life, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me, I’ve been through way too much shit to care if anyone believes me. And you’re not even the guy I’m supposed to convince, even if I did care. And C. Parrish, why the hell would you call the _human_ to prove the supernatural exists? You could have called like anyone else.”

Jordan shrugs. “Scott and Lydia said they were going back to school. I knew you had the whole day off.”

“You called me because you didn’t want them to be tardy?” Stiles buries his face in his hands. “Holy _man_ , how did you survive the army, if you’re this innocent?”

“Me.” Chon says. Of course Jordan held his own, but it never hurts to reinforce other people’s fear of him.

“Deputy Parrish, gotta say, not feeling overwhelmed with convincingness from Stiles,” O says. “Got anything else?”

32.  
When Jordan can light his hand on fire without permanent issue -besides the sick stench of charred skin that lingers in the Sheriff’s office even after Stiles sprays half a bottle of crappy Axe cologne into the air- Chon decides to concede the point. Weird shit exists.

33.  
Stiles claps his hands then shoots a finger at O and Ben. “Are you two assassins too?”

Chon nearly laughs imagining it. “No. Ben wouldn’t even kill the guy that murdered one of our dealers and tried to take down our business.”

“Hey-eh-eh! None of that. Now that my dad’s in the hospital it’s my job to protect the honour of his office.”

“Or you could leave it up to actual deputies, since you don’t work here and have actually broken in and read confidential files about half a dozen times.” 

Jordan tries to pin Stiles with an authoritative look. It doesn’t work.

“Better than bragging about drug deals!”

34.  
“What about you?” Stiles asks O. “Captain Fierce here only said Ben wasn’t.”

“Do I look like an assassin?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’d say no, but that inevitably means yes.”

“What do you mean?”

35.  
A run down of the women in Stiles’ life:  
-a genius theoretical mathematician whose glare withers men’s testes and who can scream until people collapse  
-a goofy romantic wearer of only Hot Topic who can behead a man with a katana in three seconds  
-a recently transformed coyote who still likes rare meat and not giving second chances  
-a soldier for hire who’s teaching Bossman how to be human through orgasms and correct gun stance  
-a nurse who once made a serial killer fill out paperwork, and who dumped her jerkass husband overnight.

36.  
“And let’s not forget how my guidance counsellor was an ambassador druid for a bunch of serial killer Alpha werewolves. And three quarters of the female adults I know are cops who are completely unafraid of meth-heads.”

37.  
“And that doesn’t even include the hardass women villains I know. In conclusion, all women are viciously badass until proven otherwise.”

38.  
O likes that kind of compliment. Chon fully expects the kiss she gives Stiles. Not quite as much fun watching that as watching her and Ben, but it doesn’t bother him. Jealousy’s never been a trait of his. Jealousy is how people feel when they believe the world owes them something someone else has. Baby Chonny had lessons about the world not owing him a thing around the same time he had fireplace trust lessons.

“Wow. I mean- Wow. I have a girlfriend- mostly, I mean. We’re fighting but it’s cool. But I think she’d want your number too.”

O tosses back her tinted blue hair. “She’d have to want their numbers too. We come as a set.”

Stiles takes a good look at Ben, then transfers it to him. Chon could inform him he doesn’t screw teenagers, but he won’t have to. Stiles isn’t the type of boy to follow through on sexual mutterings.

39.  
Chon never forgets O is younger than him. She was five when he was kidnapped and held hostage against his dad’s debt for months. She was fourteen when they had their reunion; he rescued her at that party, broke the elbow of the man trying to rape her as Ben made sure she was okay, and then had to go into the service so he wouldn’t go to prison. O’s not jailbait and Chon’s not her daddy but there is an age gap, literal and personality wise.

For example:

He wants to stay in the hotel in case Jordan needs them. She wants to crash the high school’s pep rally. Free beer and first kisses to be doled out, she thinks. If she knows what jailbait is, she doesn’t care.

An argument could be made for selling there, except  
-never sell to people you don’t know  
-they have personal usage amounts on them, not a hundred dimebags  
-Stiles seemed genuinely upset about the idea

The first is the obvious unnecessary risk. He and Ben made that rule for a reason. They impress it upon all their employees for a reason.

The third is a risk too, if less obvious. Stiles seems to have all the info. Much more than Jordan. And he might have more soon if his task of cracking a password with some girl Jordan speaks a little too positively about goes well. There are a handful of not yet dead people on the deadpool, and the sooner they get the last section of the list the sooner they can control what happens to the targets. Chon can’t do that if Stiles is pissed they sold to the goalie or whoever and not talking to them.

40.  
Chon wins the battle for O’s attention but only by employing dirty methods.

Dirty [ **dur** -tee]  
1\. soiled with dirt; foul; unclean  
2\. obscene; pornographic; lewd

Lets go with definition two, with a side order of two, please.

Chon tosses her onto the left queen bed, tugs her panties off and puts his tongue to her. O tastes like nectar, like ambrosia. Better than any Trophy Wife or tourist he’s ever enjoyed.

41.  
Her thighs clamped firmly on either side of his head block every sound except their rushing pulses, and his field of vision is low. Chon only knows Ben didn’t head for the pool when the bed shakes and there’s an anatomically impossible hand on his ass. 

O moans in disappointment when he yanks away from her hot grip. Shifts out of Ben’s immediate reach. Makes sure that he can see them both without touching them.

Chon doesn’t like the change in affairs either, but like has nothing to do with it. He has to. Considering the world that’s opened up to them today, considering this county is supposedly a literal beacon, he needs to know if Ben’s got 

a bite mark from an incubus 

a rash from pixie dust

something.

Free will doesn’t make sense in this context. They’ve talked about this. Late night smoking together, playing volleyball, distributing pounds of hydro to their employees; it’s come up more than once, like Ben’s rants about Big Pharma, and Chon’s about neo-hippies. The conclusion being they’re both straight, and O has such an abundance of the gift between her legs that if she wants them both they can partake without it damaging them. Ben wouldn’t just do this.

“What attacked you?” Chon demands.

“What? Nothing!”

So Ben didn’t see it, or there was a memory loss agent in the venom. That might narrow it down for Stiles.

“Chon, don’t be stupid,” O tells him. “Your ‘we’re both straight and never touch’ schtick only works as long as we don’t meet an ex-boyfriend.”

“What?” No sense in denying it, they both look firm in their belief. “Jordan didn’t say anything.”

“We’ve seen you post hook up a dozen times. You always act the same way. You did with Parrish too.”

O nods. “So you’re Gay Until Release Date, and yeah you’ve been released from the SEALs, but you gotta have enough left to make out with Ben a little?”

42.  
All said and done, it’s more than making out.

43.  
And that’s how Chon doesn’t see the text until he automatically checks his phone on the hour.

“Fuck.”

Chon grabs the first set of jeans in reach, not caring who’s they are. 

“Fuck.”

The Glock 22 fits in the waistband so they’re probably his. Ben’s things are so infused with his hippie righteousness they’d probably fall apart at the touch of a weapon. 

“Fuck.”

“Dude are you leaving?”

“I fucked up.” He’s halfway out the door when he registers the unsaid us? in Ben’s question and shouts, “Stiles might be murdered.”

Fuck.

And he gave O shit for not being professional. At least it’s not her fucking job.

44.  
 **Lydia and Stiles went to Eichen House to bribe someone. Brunski there is a murderer.**

Chon doesn’t reply to the text. He knows better than to think Jordan will look at his phone between when he sent the message and when the situation is over. Far more useful to drive with both hands on the wheel, as fast as he won’t be caught for.

By the time he gets into the basement of the asylum it’s all over. Jordan’s got a woman in handcuffs. There’s a dead man on the ground. Stiles is texting. Lydia is shaking as Jordan hovers like he wants to hold her but can’t.

“Are we disposing of the body?” It’s rarer than just killing someone, but he’s done it.

“No, we have grounds for this being a legitimate operation.”

“So what’s the next move?”

Lydia smooths the hem of her outfit, a habit obviously meant to make her in control of her environment. “Brunski hit Stiles really hard. He needs to be checked for a concussion.”

“Uh, _no_.” Stiles waves his phone aimlessly but enthusiastically. “I need to go to Scott. This is the second time someone’s tried to set him on fire. On. Fire. Do you know what that’s like?”

“No, I’m working on my first still,” Jordan bites back.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry. But still. Gimme Scott or gimme death!” Stiles laughs, but it’s on the edge of hysterical and the hand that scrubs over his face is quivering.

“I’ll drive you to Scott’s then drive you to the hospital.” Chon offers.

“How will I get back here for Roscoe? I kind of really don’t want to come back.”

“I’ll drive your jeep.”

“How will you-”

“I’ve run seven miles with shrapnel wounds in the rain. I’ll be fine.”

45.  
Chon stays in the car until Stiles enters the house. Then he sneaks to the window nearest the room with the light on. The curtain’s mostly drawn, but not enough that he can’t get a visual. And he gets one back. A quick flash of red eyes as Scott-The-Awesomesauce-Werewolf-Bestie inevitably senses something in his yard and checks. That’s where it ends though, confirming Chon’s suspicions that some time during their talk in the station Stiles had snapped a picture of the visitors so that the various supernatural friends wouldn’t assume another assassin.

Well, another bad assassin.

Ben might argue invasion of privacy.

Hypothetical Ben can hypothetically shut the fuck up, if you ask Chon.

Fact: Stiles was nearly murdered. 

Fact: Chon isn’t letting another assassin strike while Stiles’ guard is down in the lull between aggressive actions.

If his guard _is_ down, that is. Not a given. He’s beginning to understand the wearied soldier attitude that Stiles heavily spackles over with crude words and flailing actions.

46.  
Chon doesn’t follow Stiles into the hospital. Apparently Stiles has a mother figure in the staff and Chon is fairly sure no parent wants their teen to hang out with twenty something year olds. Even PAQU seemed disturbed by the age difference between her daughter and her daughter’s best friends, at least until she got distracted by her next phase, her next strategy to acquire her next husband.

He stays in the driver’s seat until Stiles sends him a text. It’s seething with resentment about being forced to have an MRI. Chon knows from experience that shit takes time. Longer than he has. Keeping this kid safe doesn’t mean anything if assassins take residence in the hotel.

He locks the Jeep and heads into the hospital. For a building that’s been attacked more than once, the security is light. Chon gives the keys to the front desk -the nurse that takes them no doubt survived the last attack by sheer wide faced glare- and walks away. Ben and O are waiting.

47.  
In his haste, Chon hadn’t taken a keycard. When he knocks, Ben opens the door without questioning who’s on the other side. Fucking trusting types. It just makes him more sure of what he’s about to say.

Chon sits on the edge of the bed. The empty bed. O’s wrapped in the over-bleached sheets of the other queen. Ben stays standing, a point equidistant to both of them.

“We can’t do this anymore.”

O sighs. “Didn’t we go over how you’re bi and no one cares?”

“Here,” Chon clarifies.

“Why? We have a hotel bed and everything.”

“While I was distracted five teenagers nearly died in two separate locations. I should have been there for at least one.”

“I can respect Hero Chon,” Ben says. “For now. If we stay here a month it’s going to get old.”

48.  
It doesn’t take a month. 

Twelve hours later Chon meets Scott McCall and girlfriend, whose weapon of choice is a sword. Obviously the girl Stiles spoke of at the station. She’s even wearing grey and black stripes.

They have intel on a group of assassins, rogue soldiers, coming for a bunch of werewolves all on the Deadpool.

They also have the werewolves.

49.  
The warehouse Scott chooses to hide them in wouldn’t be Chon’s first choice. It’s too large to be very defensible with a small group of people. 

But then, if there was going to be an offensive group of defenders it would be werewolves.

50.  
“They’ll cut the lights,” Argent says.

Of course they’ll cut the lights. It’s a standard tactic. Anything that disorients the defender is. It’s interesting how even those that should be able to manage just fine - soldiers with night vision goggles - werewolves with glowing amber eyes - end up off their game. It has to do with primal, primordial fear. The caveman didn’t like the creatures in the dark, so why should anyone else?

“I brought night vision goggles,” Chon answers.

“If you’re going to look like the enemy you should let the Alphas scent you.”

Stiles didn’t mention that as a ritual, but Chon can guess.

“Will they be scenting you?”

Argent looks at him. “I’m not dressed like paramilitary.”

Given the option-

clear green vision vs squinting to see who’s shooting  
rubbing against an old lady and a teenage boy vs keeping a professional distance

-the choice is obvious.

51.  
Werewolves or not, when it comes down to it the fighting is no different. The enemy breaches, and it’s on. The adrenaline churns in Chon’s stomach like magma. His arm raises and his gun erupts, the spray of hot bullets coring through every weaker thing.

52.  
It pushes the metaphor to say blood spreads over the floor like lava

but Chon does have one-two-three and counting dead by his hand

and the M4 does cause massive blood pools

and he doesn’t regret a thing. Would take touristy pictures if he could.

Chon was here.

53.  
Everything stops when half the phones in the room ring at once. 

For a second Chon thinks Stiles was lying with truth by way of making it a joke, and that he really is a hacker, and this is him, creating some kind of diversion. Then the Hunters lower their guns and rush out as quickly as they came in. They leave their bodies.

Rude.

Chon waits for one of the werewolves to explain. He could pick one of the corpses’ pockets, find the phone. See if it’s just an Abort Mission text, or something more detailed. He doesn’t. He’s not interested in the others possible moral dilemma if the rogue Hunter isn’t quite a corpse yet and grabs him. Chon learned his lesson about letting enemies live. Some of the people in the room don’t look ready for that yet. Better to avoid the situation by standing back until every last body bleeds out.

“Someone must have done it.” Derek says.

“Malia, Lydia, Stiles, the Sheriff and Parrish. Someone figured it out,” Kira says, amazed.

“It was Stiles. Stiles never lets me down.” 

Scott sounds certain. Understandable. Stiles was bludgeoned hard enough to need an MRI and still his first move was to check that Scott was unharmed. That kind of friendship makes it easy to build hopes upon. Trust, even.

“It doesn’t matter,” Braeden says. “We had to stall until someone stopped the deadpool, with as few casualties as possible. Goal achieved.”

54.  
Goal achieved.

Two words Chon hears infrequently. Surprisingly rarely.

As a soldier immediately followed by a private security contractor, Chon doesn’t hear those words professionally. The job never goes perfectly. There’s always one less terrorist in the house than intel promised.

It’s also lacking in his home life. There’s always another crop to grow, harvest, distribute. More employees to hire, more growhouses to expand into.

This though. This is done. Jordan needed his town clear of assassins. The deadpool’s erased. The payments are stopped, a joint effort between Stiles, the girlfriend Chon hasn’t met, and Jordan’s Lydia. What murderer for hire would bother to continue with no pay?

According to Stiles 

‘there’s only one psychotic killer left, and as much as I’d like you to shoot him in the face, he’s not your problem.’

If Chon was alone in Beacon Hills it’d be a job. Just another job, minus pay. A bunch of teenagers and a few cops in the know wouldn’t be the most dysfunctional team he’s had. A certain type of person is drawn to private security. He should know.

O’s at the smoothie place, though. 

Ben knows where the independent bookstore is. 

They’re not leaving without him.

Chon’s not letting them see the guy he is when he parties in I-Rock-N-Roll.

Stiles is just gonna have to deal.

Carry on my wayward son.

55.  
Chon says his goodbyes outside the station. Goodbye, singular noun, actually. All the teenagers are in school, and even if they weren’t they wouldn’t be rushing to say farewell to Deputy Parrish’s friend who helped them that one time.

It’s just Chon and the man in question. And Ben and O are in either driver’s seat. Waiting. Ben’s ‘respecting his boundaries’, O’s got enough distance to watch through the glass like a tv screen.

“So favour paid, I guess.” Jordan chuckles awkwardly.

“Don’t be stupid. This wasn’t on a barter system. Brothers call each other when they need to.” At least servicemen do. Chon’s an only child, and he can’t imagine his father would have socialized siblings very well.

56.  
Chon kisses Jordan goodbye. Ben and O won’t care. They’re not the jealous type either. And whether Jordan was GURD or not, jumper cables to his sex drive should help the crush on the redhead.

57.  
Two months later Chon is antsy is the same familiar way. There’s only so much suburbia a man can be expected to take before he either 

goes off the grid 

(cooks his own meat, sleeps under the stars and loses his wifi connection)

or loses his mind

(invests in a van and a riding lawn mower and has opinions on Grey’s Anatomy)

This time he doesn’t ask Crowe and Key for a placement. This time he calls Chris Argent. It’s Chris or Braeden, and Chris has Ben’s stamp of approval, being a necessity only Hunter rather than a _what’s the job what’s the pay_ mercenary.

He winds up in Mexico with the Calaveras. It’s basically a cartel, dealing in violence and profiting from under the table activity. But people-eating Wendigos are beheaded, not dealers late with a payment, and Chon’s not exactly horrified by unlicensed firearms.

It’s different, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that the people he’s shooting deserve it. There’s no friendly fire, no innocent bystanders, just the werejaguar that tried to kill half a dozen teenagers and succeeded in killing career Hunters. Chon’s never cared about what the pathetic neo-hippie pacifists of the world think, usually can’t even stand them, Ben being the exception-

Ben isn’t a grungy, pasty-faced-from-vegan-diets, patchouli oil stinking, Birkenstock wearing, clogging up sidewalks playing hacky sack, doing semi-naked yoga in the park so other people have to look at their pale emaciated bodies _parasite_. He’s just Ben 

-but these excursions are something he can share over Skype without Ben getting that sad look. Chon’s down for nearly anything that prevents that look.

58.  
Plus O digs the Chonny the Vampire Slayer vibe, so.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery for Savages headcanon:
> 
> During a mission with the Calaveras, Chon gets bitten by a werewolf. Ben and O demand to be bitten too. Thus, at the end of Savages, when the cartel tries to murder them all, the regular non-wolfsbane bullets don't do anything permanent.


End file.
